


not ailuromancy, but close

by monarchs



Category: The Social Network (2010)
Genre: Actually just The one cat, Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, Cats, Demisexuality, Domestic, Financial Issues, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Slice of Life, a pinch of fluff, a pinch of humor, a speck of mild angst, probably too much dickish cat moments, sexual content in later chapters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 16:47:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 19,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19299760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monarchs/pseuds/monarchs
Summary: Eduardo picks up a cat in an alleyway on a rainy day, down at the pier. Little does he know he's picked up an uncommonly nonchalant and dickish shapeshifter who drinks beer and codes and makes Eduardo trip over him for sport.





	1. marlins and beer

**Author's Note:**

> I was lying on my bed thinking how cute this would be. I somehow ended up writing an entire chaptered fic, from start to finish.  
> Disclaimer: I do not own anything or anyone in this fic. Not even Marlin.
> 
> Ailuromancy is a divination method that uses a cat's movements or behaviour to predict the future, especially the weather.
> 
> Updates will be weekly starting July 5.

"No, Marlin! Just— _one photo_. All I need is _one_. Marlin! Get back here! No, don't— No! Not the leather couch!"

Eduardo dropped his phone while it was still open on camera, jumped and landed awkwardly onto his luxurious cream sofa as Marlin dived underneath it. 

_God_ , Eduardo thought, giving up, face buried into the stupidly expensive cushion. Why did he ever get a cat?  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Ever since he picked Marlin off the streets three months ago, Eduardo couldn't ever get him to stay put for a picture. Though it was honestly a first world problem Eduardo should never complain about, he couldn't help feeling downright furious with his cat. 

His mom had been asking for a picture since last month, and he'd been trying, really, but it was near impossible. And when she had asked him to describe Marlin, Eduardo found it incredibly hard to even start defining this— whatever this cat was.

"I think he's half-something wild," Eduardo said into the receiver as he watched Marlin destroy and shred one of his ties to bits. "With a sort of resting bitch face."

"Edu, _carinho_ , please, language!"

Eduardo gestured (spastically) at Marlin, as if his mom could actually see him through the phone. "I don't know how else to describe this deadpan scowling look he keeps giving me!"

Marlin stopped playing with the tie and gave Eduardo the exact look. 

There was an odd pause before Eduardo scrambled to open his camera on his phone, but by the time he could tap to get a picture, Marlin had already sprinted behind the television set, toppling over a flower vase and leaving scratches on his authentic wooden floor.

"Okay, fine, you fucking win, Marlin," Eduardo groaned.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
After the nth failed attempt at getting a photo in which Marlin wasn't just a fuzzy brown blur, Eduardo gave up and started googling wild hybrid cat breeds instead.

Marlin had dark auburn fur, which was a color that Eduardo found really hard to describe, so after fruitless searches on Google for two hours, he decided to sign up to a cat owners forum. He created an anonymous account, called _trout_1982_ (he had just opened a can of it for Marlin, who refused to eat it from his bowl, only wanted it on Eduardo's _desk_ and from the can itself) and, after a long hour of redaction, posted into the forum asking for help on identifying his really, _really_ strange cat.

Marlin, who had been scrutinizing Eduardo's screen this whole time during his meal, shook his head incredulously before turning to study Eduardo's book on entrepreneurship, which was open on the side of his desk. Which was a thing Eduardo learned not to question too much.

➜ Post: 05-25-2010, 10:36PM [Thread Starter]  
---  
  
  
**trout_1982**  
New Kitten  
  
Reputation: **1**  
Join date: May 2010  
Posts: 1 |  **Marlin and Trout**  
Hi. I'm new to this forum (well, to forums in general).  
  
And to owning a cat. Like, really new. I'm in awe of everyone's beautiful feline companions, and wish I could get as close to my cat as most of you are.  
  
So, well, I have this strange cat – Marlin, (I would love to upload a picture of him, but he refuses to cooperate, even on "good" days) and I was wondering if anyone could possibly help me identify his breed.  
  
I fear if my family or friends come to visit me, he would tear someone's ear to shreds the way he's doing it to 90% of my belongings.  
  
I picked him off the streets about three months ago - he's about 9 lbs, rather thin, dark auburn pelt with mixed colors and oakwood patterns, but really, really subtle. He has a lighter underside, but he rarely shows it to me, so I can't tell if it's a proper white or cream. He has teal eyes, I think, when in sunlight, but sometimes they can look dark yellow-green in the shadows. His ears seem a little bigger than the usual cats, and if I look closely his snout seems a little more elongated too. I don't know if this is relevant, but the tip of his tail is sharp and black.  
  
He also doesn't eat much, refuses to eat from his cat bowl, refuses to drink water from his bowl if it's next to the cat bowl, and doesn't use his litter box much (though I have no idea where he's been urinating or defecating, and I don't know if I truly want to know).  
  
Finally, he doesn't meow. At all. He only makes these hissy sounds at me when I call for him, or scratches me dramatically when I pick him up.  
  
Anyways, I appreciate all help and advice. Thank you very much in advance.  
  
Cheers.  
  
  
❝ Quote ➥ Reply  
  
Eduardo rubbed the back of his arm nervously, where a band-aid was, as he reread his post. He sighed, turned to glare at Marlin, who glared back lazily, before standing up and getting rid of the empty fish can that had fallen to the floor.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The next morning Eduardo woke up to replies that were discussing how tiny his 'Chausie' cat was. 

There was a major misunderstanding that had started brewing about halfway into the first page of replies. People seemed to have forgotten he picked the cat off the streets and focused on the fact that Marlin was nine pounds for a cat that was supposed to be above twenty.

People started to call him "cat torturer" about every other reply. And the more he scrolled, the more he felt terrified at continuing. He kept thinking he'd read the worst comments, but they kept getting worse, and there were already three pages worth of them. 

Eduardo ran his hand through his morning hair, nervous and offended. _How did he keep accidentally torturing animals?_ There had been this other time back at Harvard, when he had to keep this live _chicken_ for a stupid finals club and… god, he really didn't want to think about it. It was only 6AM. Worst time to recall embarrassing moments of his life. Way to start the day. God. 

Moving on.

(He tried to focus on other replies, the ones in between long and compact paragraphs on animal rights. One of them asked whether or not Marlin was mangy when Eduardo had picked him up. Which well. Eduardo ignored completely. But another replier had asked, "why Marlin?" and that just felt easier to think about.)

(He had called Marlin that because the first time he saw Marlin watching television, it was playing a documentary about 3000-pound marlins, which were honestly, insanely frightening. The eyeball looked like it was bigger than a _soccer ball_. 

Marlin, on the other hand, had looked at them like he really _really_ wanted to eat one, and for a few seconds Eduardo thought that was the most endearing thing ever. Ever.)

Eduardo scrolled through the rest of the replies as he felt Marlin stretching out next to him, taking up space horizontally on the bed, claws digging lightly into Eduardo's side. 

Honestly, Eduardo thought, defeated, he felt more like the receiving end of an abusive relationship, and not at all a cat torturer-slash-owner. 

"Look at these people with nice cats, Marlin," he said as he looked at everyone's forum signatures. "Why can't you be a nice cat?" he added, pointing at the screen of his phone. Marlin didn't give it a look at all, even turned his back to Eduardo, curling into the extra pillows. Eduardo reached out to pet him, but Marlin lashed out instantly before giving Eduardo a threatening kind of look.

"Gee, okay, you're right, my forum reputation went from 1 to -38 in one night. There's no salvation for me even if you somehow turned into an angel," Eduardo sighed heavily before returning to his phone. After checking his five weather apps, he suddenly remembered the people from the forum talking about "chausie cats" and decided to google it. 

"Oh my god, we've found your kind, Marlin," Eduardo said, trying to sound enthused as he browsed through the photos of Marlin clones. "Look! This one has the exact face you give me whenever I try to convince you your sandbox is an adequate place to pee."

Marlin flicked his tail sharply as sole response.

Eduardo glared at him for a beat, but upon realizing it was time to go, rolled out of bed. 

When he reached his dresser however, he noticed that the pile of shirts on top of it that he had ironed meticulously the night before were rumpled with a very evident Marlin-shaped imprint. He grabbed one of the shirts and patted the fur off, indignant. 

One of these days he was seriously going to disown his cat. He looked at his wrinkly shirt, then glared at Marlin, who looked back with some lazy misplaced form of innocence. 

Eduardo groaned, took a few moments to get his act together, before heading off to start his morning routine.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Marlin behaved like a cat most times, like sleeping in the middle of doorways, breaking things for fun, fitting himself in narrow gaps and pretending he was invisible.

But there were so many things that confused Eduardo a lot. 

For one, Marlin's eating habits and customs were, without a doubt, unusual. Marlin refused to eat cat food, and only ate one specific brand of canned fish (that wasn't exactly tailored to cats) every one and a half day, give or take.

The lid of the can had to be taken off cleanly too, and it had to be placed on a tabletop or on Eduardo's desk, near an open book, except the ones on meteorology. 

Marlin seemed to especially enjoy the anthology of Greek mythology Eduardo owned. Which honestly baffled the hell out of Eduardo, but he tried not to think too much of it, because the last time he brought this up with Chris, Chris had looked at him like he was deranged, and the last thing he needed, at this point in life, was to be told he was indeed deranged.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
It did seem like Marlin understood a lot about things around him. He wasn't scared of the vacuum cleaner, wasn't surprised by toast popping out of the toaster, didn't fall for cheap cat tricks or toys, barely flinched at alarms going off, even knew how to press the snooze button and proceed to sleep on it, proud to make Eduardo late, if anything.

Marlin also seemed to understand what was happening on TV. He followed the news each morning when Eduardo put it on as he made breakfast, and watched episodes of Breaking Bad season three, religiously, every Sunday at 10PM. 

Never sat too close to the TV either, like he knew it would be bad for his eyes.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
There was this one time, Eduardo could have sworn it, when Marlin had looked at Eduardo sympathetically, after Eduardo had hung up on his father. That was around two weeks ago. It had been a really bad conversation, as Eduardo had expected it to be. 

Marlin had tucked himself close to Eduardo, next to him on the couch, that rainy evening, and let Eduardo pet his back. Somehow that was enough to soothe some of Eduardo's nerves, ease the tension, simmer his anger and frustrations.  
  
  
  
Moments like those were few and far between, of course, and maybe the only reasons Eduardo kept Marlin at all.  
  
  
  
Though, to be frank, Eduardo would really rather _not_ put Marlin back on the streets, where he had picked him up. 

Marlin had looked so small back then. Like a kitten who looked like he'd given up on life.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
_At least now he looks lively_ , Eduardo thought, deadpan, as he watched Marlin decapitate the cork sole of his authentic leather Testoni dress shoes that had cost Eduardo two grands. 

(Marlin seemed to hate everything expensive Eduardo owned.)

(Eduardo would sometimes tell himself that maybe _expensive_ smelled a special way, and that maybe Marlin was allergic to it. But who was Eduardo even trying to kid?)  
  
  
  
Summer moved in fast. The beer bottles in his fridge disappeared a little quicker, and he had to figure out how to rouse his central AC from hibernation, in order to keep humidity out. 

New York summers were relatively easy to get by, even though Eduardo's flat faced north and was exposed to so much sun. 

Marlin didn't move around as much, stayed mostly in shaded and cool areas of the house, sometimes making it hard for Eduardo to find him, and that would often worry Eduardo, because he was paranoid like that. 

It didn't help that Marlin barely made any noise at all.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
There was this one hot evening after work and grocery shopping where Eduardo had to spend a full hour looking for Marlin. He had looked at all of Marlin's favorite places, every nook and corner: top of bookcases, between the ceramic plant pots, in Eduardo's closet, under the bed, the third drawer of his dresser that wouldn't close properly, etcetera.

"God, Marlin, this isn't funny," he said, feeling panic rise up in his throat. The AC wasn't working, hadn't been working since morning, and it was really getting stuffy inside. He opened the windows, turned around and that was the exact moment he saw Marlin's tail coming out from the cupboard next to the dishwasher.

Marlin had looked a little weak and tired, like he was having a heat stroke. Eduardo scooped him out and put him near the fan to cool off. He put a bowl of water near him, encouraged him to drink, going, "hey buddy, come on, have a drink," soft words almost lost in the rickety noise the fan made.

Thankfully Marlin recovered overnight. He had been sleeping on the floor, right next to Eduardo's bed, sort of on Eduardo's slippers. 

When the alarm went off in the morning, and Eduardo had to get up, he stepped on Marlin's tail by accident, earning himself a very angry look, but unexpectedly, no scratches and no hisses. 

It was certainly a big improvement, and it had made Eduardo's day entirely. Even the 8AM traffic jam and some biker scratching his car didn't take that away from him.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
But then, of course, sometimes, Marlin was just a really unforgivable pain in the ass. 

Like today: Eduardo had a date with a cute girl he met at a coffee shop near the office, and he was wearing his best semi-casual suit, had his hair slicked just right, when Mark came around, acting like he was an innocent passerby, before he _sprayed_ Eduardo without warning.

Like. 

Actually. Just. 

"Marlin you little fucker! What the actual _fuck_!" Eduardo screamed before proceeding to cuss six ways from Sunday. 

Marlin had been doing these random uncharacteristic acts for three days now, and Eduardo was at the end of his tether.

Marlin zigzagged away at the speed of light, leaving chaos in his path, potted plants falling off counters, pebbles and sand scattered everywhere from his litter box— and then Eduardo was screaming across the flat, going from _I'm going to choke you you mother—_ to _ugh NOT THE MINIATURE ZEN GARDEN, MARLIN you little SON OF A, no NO NO, NOT THE COUCH—_ and the neighbor's dog was barking too, and it was generally a lot of chaos, and if someone was knocking on an adjacent wall or even on his door, telling him to keep it down, Eduardo couldn't hear it at all.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
After changing through three ruined pants, chasing Marlin around the flat, mourning over his couch, and pacifying his elderly neighbors, Eduardo arrived at the coffee shop approximately fifty minutes late.

The girl had already left and didn't answer any of his calls or texts. Sighing, Eduardo lined up for a coffee anyways, only to give up buying one right when he was about to hand over his credit card, deciding to call up Dustin and go to the bar instead.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"You look harried," Dustin remarked, after they'd ordered their drinks. 

"How's the website going?" Eduardo asked, tired.

"Oh," Dustin shrugged. "It's _going_." He looked at Eduardo expectantly, waiting on Eduardo to spill his guts or something. "So. Tough day? Had a one-night stand last night with someone you are convinced is your soulmate or a loved one from a past life? If it's that, then I totally feel you, man. Have I told you about Jessica—"

Eduardo sighed. Everyone knew about Jessica. This was Dustin's way of forcing people to start spilling before Dustin did about Jessica. 

"No, it's not. It's Marlin."

"Marlin! Marlin…" Dustin exclaimed, and then narrowed his eyes. "Who's that again?"

"My cat."

Dustin leaned away, giving Eduardo a mocking "pics or it didn't happen" look. 

Eduardo sighed, then picked off fur from his shirt and shoved them into Dustin's face. 

"Okay, okay," Dustin sputtered, "you've got a cat. Or a really hairy partner. But you're here to talk about your cat. Because somehow, I seem to scream cat guru to you."

Eduardo scoffed. "You don't scream women guru if that's what you're implying."

"Fine, talk your heart out. Spill the beans. Let the cat out of the bag, I don't know," Dustin said as he gestured something vague. 

Eduardo reached out for his drink to take a sip. Dustin took a bigger gulp of his. 

"Marlin's just—" Eduardo started, trying to find his words. "God. I don't know what to do about him," he swirled his glass, pensive, trying to come up with the right term, "he's a real menace, that's what he is."

Dustin looked at him sympathetically. "Wait a sec. Didn't you have the date with the coffee girl today?" he then asked.

Eduardo laughed coldly, examining the coaster on the counter. "Yeah," he said, "about that."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
By the time Eduardo got home, it was already past 2AM. He wasn't drunk, he had a phone call meeting with a client the next morning after all, but he was a little buzzed, or at least, enough to feel just about this side of really sleepy.

Eduardo was pretty much a quiet drunk anyways, so it was hard to tell, even for himself. He toed off his shoes, taking the utmost care not to make too much sound, for fear of startling Marlin The Mad, or taunting him over to resume their afternoon warfare. 

Eduardo didn't want to see even a single hair of his cat right now. Just wanted to sleep.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
He was about to crash on the couch when the sound of his fridge opening resounded in his flat. He perked up, looked in the direction of the kitchen, finding a sliver of light coming from it.

 _Well fuck_ , Eduardo thought, sitting up slowly, feeling pins and needles on the back of his arms.

Shit. Today was really not his day. 

He looked over at the entrance and at the house alarm console on the wall. Had he forgotten to set it when he left? He must have – he had been so busy yelling at Marlin. He couldn't even remember activating it.

He quietly grabbed for the baseball bat under his couch before tiptoeing on the carpet like some cartoon character, approaching the kitchen as subtly as a school mascot with a wobbly three-part costume.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Just when he was a step away from standing at the doorway though, he closed his eyes, and tried to calm his nerves. They fizzed like a can of soda pop that was just opened, at the back of his mind, and he was so _not_ ready for this, god, he was a grown man, but he was so not ready for this.

He took a final breath before stepping in and looking up.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
He almost screeched at what he saw.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Eduardo dropped his baseball bat and it rolled on the floor away from him. He was so flustered he didn't bother scrambling for it, just decided to gesture emphatically, like he couldn't speak. Then he stopped, realizing he probably looked insane, what with his gangly limbs.

After a drawn pause and a heavy sigh, he finally said, " _holy Moses_ , okay, um, just. Who are you?" in a hushed sort of way, like he was scared of waking up the neighbors or something. But also in a crazily worked-up way, like he had a stream of interrogative marks added behind his question. God, he must look stupid. But then, how else should he be reacting?  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
There across the kitchen, in front of his fridge, and barely hidden by the open fridge door, was a man, about a head shorter than Eduardo, with curly hair, an uncannily familiar deadpan expression on his (rather cute?) face, a bottle of beer in one hand, and—  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
And a really _really_ naked body.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Eduardo had to look away so fast he almost got whiplash. 

He could feel himself flushing madly, but after a couple of seconds, he turned back, determined, with a shaky hand over his eyes, and said, "okay, pal, I have no idea how you got in, but I must inform you that trespassing and exposing yourself indecently are both very heinous crimes, especially at 2 fucking AM, and I will be dialing nine-one-one," Eduardo said while grabbing for his phone, which was in one of his pockets, he just had to figure out which. He then whispered rather harshly, mostly to himself, "I don't even know how you got past my satanic cat, but whatever, like, I'm calling right now."

The man didn't budge, not even an inch, didn't even really react, except maybe now he looked mildly amused. 

He did, however, say, in a sobering and fast monotone, "I'm a fucking cat, Wardo, not a pathetic guard dog."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Eduardo slowly looked up from his phone, a tap away from calling. Something like horror settled into his gut.

_What in the worldly fuck?_


	2. Mark and roast chicken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! I'll be updating this approximately weekly from now on, about every Thursday/Friday.

"Can I forgo the pants if I'm wearing underwear," the man asked nonchalantly, looking down at himself. He was now clothed with Eduardo's old college t-shirt and sweatpants. The shirt was oversized and blue with a red PE on its left chest, the sweatpants a cotton light gray.

"I sincerely didn't have _that_ much to drink," Eduardo said, rubbing at his temple. It didn't help that the man was kind of spot on Eduardo's type. Eduardo was pretty much convinced he was dreaming or hallucinating all of this.

He really couldn't wait to wake up from it and laugh it off and move on. Because like. What?

The man just shrugged, then sat down on the couch. "You still have beer in the fridge."

Eduardo frowned. "About that."

"If it's any consolation, beer is food. I've been eating."

Eduardo sighed. "You really are Marlin, aren't you?"

The man looked at Eduardo with a bored look, then said, "Mark."

"Excuse me?"

"My name's Mark, actually. I've put up with Marlin because it was inconvenient for me to speak."

Eduardo opened his mouth, then closed it. He shook his head, then— thoroughly certain he'd lost his mind— said, "bed. God. I need to go to bed and wake up from this madness."

Not-Marlin gave him a small indolent smile. "I suppose it'll be entertaining, watching you wake up and realize this wasn't a dream."

Eduardo groaned audibly.

 

  
  
  


 

Sunlight trickled into the living room, and Eduardo woke up with a jolt. He took a few moments to blink the spots out of his eyes, shading his face from the sun. He was aching all over and feeling warm in a strange way. He tried to sit up but found himself in an odd position; he had a leg hooked over the back cushion of his couch, one arm squeezed between his body and the cushion, and his other arm around—

Around some _guy_.

_Who was sleeping on top of him._

With hair the exact color of his fucking cat.

 

Sirens went off in Eduardo's mind, and his thoughts started spinning like honking firetrucks driving in circles. The last bits of their conversation last night resurged from the dead, and for a good minute or two or five, he had to calm his nerves down and resist kicking his— whatever this man was — off of him. 

Because. Because he didn't know what to do about the whole ordeal, and seriously didn't want to continue it right when he just woke up.

Every fiber of his body did want to just kick him off though – the man was essentially a stranger, right? And a little heavy. 

But he was sleeping so peacefully… his breathing was steady, his torso rising and falling in tandem with Eduardo's. 

He was slightly curled onto one side, like a cat. Like it was innate to him, and honestly just. It was kind of endearing? 

Eduardo ran his hand up his face and then through his hair, trying to tell apart north from south, silly fantasies from crude reality.

He tried to peek at the man's face, only to find it all soft and. Well, fuck.

Eduardo was so fucked.

 

  
  
  


 

 

He couldn't believe that Marlin was— Marlowe? What did he say his name was again?

 _Shit_ , Eduardo thought. _Marlowe_. His client. Eduardo needed to make the phone call meeting with Marlowe. What time was it?

He pushed off the man in a hurry and scavenged the floor for his phone but froze before he could really get to it because he heard a loud thud that was quickly followed by low grunt. Eduardo turned back, wincing.

The man— Marl— Mar— Mark? _Mark_. Mark was rubbing a red spot on his cheek tiredly. He looked like he had just hit the side of the low oakwood table.

"Shit, sorry," Eduardo said, shrinking. 

Mark studied Eduardo carefully, then, narrowing his eyes and glaring, he looked away, and climbed up on the sofa to resume his nap. 

It just occurred to Eduardo at that moment that Mark had gotten rid of the sweatpants overnight.

Eduardo did a weird strangling gesture in the air before giving up. He picked up the sweatpants from the floor and tossed it against Mark. His phone had been underneath it, which was great since he didn't need to look for it anymore, but well, upon picking it up he realized he had missed several angry calls and texts and emails. 

He was a full hour late for the phone call meeting.

He sat down on the couch again, back sinking into the cushion, feeling tiredly calm.

Between missing an important call and learning that his cat was in fact a man, he really didn't know what to do. He couldn't tell which was worst. Well, he did, because the latter was still mind-boggling, like how he still found it mind-boggling that he went to Harvard the same time as Natalie Portman, except this time, he might be able to get over the whole Natalie Portman thing and proceed to never get over the Marlin-is-not-Marlin thing.

Mark glanced at Eduardo over his shoulder as if questioning his sudden lapse into silence. Eduardo smiled tightly, to which Mark yawned before going back to sleep. Eduardo sighed, moving to his washroom to get an ointment for the bruise that was blooming on Mark's cheek.

 

  
  
  


 

Two nights later, when he was grabbing two bottles of beer from his fridge for both him and Mark, Eduardo thought: _god_ , no wonder his beer was disappearing so quickly. 

He remembered distinctly just a few mornings ago he had looked down at his stomach, scrutinizing it for hints of a beer diet, wondering how he could possibly be downing so many bottles without realizing it. All while innocent-looking Marl— _Mark_ was sunbathing at the windowsill, sleeping like a log.

 

  
  
  


 

Now it all made sense.

Now, a lot of things made sense.

 

  
  
  


 

It seemed, that Mark ate at night, especially when Eduardo was away. Granted, he didn't eat all that much, even said that he could subsist on very little, and that he hadn't wanted Eduardo to notice. 

It was a maudlin backstory straight out of a Dickens novel. Eduardo honestly didn't know how to feel about it. For the most part, he was incredulous, but he also felt a little sorry at the same time.

 

  
  
  


 

Mark used the shower whenever Eduardo was at work, commenting that it was "more convenient and time-saving, and less tedious than licking oneself up". Now that Eduardo knew, he started noticing that Mark's fur did smell like the Oribe shampoo he used. It was weird, to have his hair match Mark's fur, but he kind of also liked it. Which was something he would never admit to himself or to anyone ever again.

Mark enjoyed reading books – he had to look for quiet activities during the night after all, and he said he actually liked Eduardo's selection of books, save for the meteorology books which he said were "unbelievably dull and uninspiring". 

When Eduardo told Mark he had made three hundred grand betting oil futures one summer in high school reading the weather, which impressed and dazzled the Harvard admission committee, Mark had looked at him curiously, then at the meteorology books. After a long pause of deliberation, he said, deadpan, "that's one way of selling it," which made Eduardo laugh.

 

  
  
  


 

  
  
  


 

Sometimes Eduardo would still find it frightening to wake up to a man in his bed, who was stubborn about staying half naked. Not that Mark himself was frightening – more the concept that this man was in fact, his cat. It was kind of weird in that topsy-turvy and disorienting way that made mornings especially hard to get over.

Sometimes Eduardo would find it a little nerve-wracking too, knowing that Mark, who was in his cat form, and resting beside the laptop with his feet tucked comfortably underneath him, was able to read Eduardo's emails as he was redacting them. 

Overall, Eduardo only took about a week and a half to adjust to the novelty of his weird cat being a nonchalant shapeshifter. 

 

  
  
  


 

(Okay. Truth be told, maybe there was that one panic attack he had just a few days ago, where he took a blurry picture of Mark and sent it to Dustin, asking him if he could see the man, if there was a man at all, to which Dustin had responded with _i don't know what helpline number to give u pal_.)

So… _maybe_ it took him an extra week to really move on, to really feel that it was absolutely quotidian to come back home tripping over Mark (in his human form) because Mark had decided that sleeping on the floor in the waning six-in-the-afternoon sunlight was a genius Nobel-prize idea.

But yeah, just a few weeks. Tops.

 

  
  
  
  
  
  


 

The days went by relatively fast to the point that Eduardo started losing track of how much time had actually passed since the 'revelation'. They were lounging on the couch one day, each on one end, with their feet and legs tangled lightly, completely comfortable with each other's presence. Mark was reading Jason Fried's _Rework_ (a book which Eduardo hadn't had the time to read ever since it came out back in March) when Eduardo had lowered his latest copy of the HBR and asked him, without much preamble, "were you a cat or human first?"

Mark didn't even look up from his book when he answered, "the latter."

Eduardo ruminated on that answer for a couple of seconds, waiting to see if Mark would care to elaborate. Mark didn't.

"How did… what was it like, the first time you turned into a cat?" 

Mark flipped a page of his book before saying, "seems like the latest issue of the HBR is far from thrilling."

Eduardo sank in his seat, sheepish. "I was just curious. Sorry if you don't want to talk about it."

Mark finally looked up from his book. He studied Eduardo for a beat before saying, in his casual monotone, "there's not much to say. I freaked my mom out, and she dropped her spatula. I think I was just four. She was trying to make black squid rice, and the spatula dropped on my tail. Hence the black tip."

Eduardo resisted aww-ing. "Does it, um, does it show on you, in your human form?"

Mark smiled, dimpling a little, and it was the first time Eduardo had ever seen them. They were fleeting though, disappeared as Mark licked his lips and said, enigmatically, something sparkling in his eyes: "hmm. Did you want to see?" 

Eduardo almost choked on his saliva, but quickly turned his disastrous speechlessness into a nervous smile and incredulous huff.

Mark looked down at his book again, smug. Somehow, that made Eduardo smile wider, like he had just won something big.

 

  
  
  


 

Eduardo was toeing his shoes off one particularly mild evening when he smelled a distinct waft of roast chicken coming from the dining room.

"I hope you… didn't steal that," Eduardo said as he approached.

"I'm not Oliver Twist," Mark scowled.

"I didn't know you had cat pockets for money, then."

"I'm… not a kangaroo either," Mark looked at himself, and then back at Eduardo, "should I be worried for you?"

Eduardo frowned. "Then how did you –"

"I took your credit card."

"What? Where?"

"In your drawer."

"My drawer?"

"Your underwear drawer."

 _Oh fuck_. His emergency card. "And… how did you know my PIN number?"

"You whisper it in your sleep."

Eduardo scowled, to which Mark gave a brief smile. 

"I'm just kidding. I just hack stuff for fun and deciphered your passwords. Saw a pattern. Connected twos and twos."

Eduardo sighed. He wasn't sure whether or not to feel relieved that he wasn't sleep talking his PIN numbers, if it meant that Mark had hacked into his accounts and connected 'twos and twos'.

"I thought you'd like the roast chicken," Mark said, a hint solemn.

"I mean, yes, but. Mark. You can't just hack into people's accounts."

"The internet is written in ink," he said. "You shouldn't leave sensitive information on it."

"Right, but—"

"You didn't ask about what I was doing in your underwear drawer."

Eduardo flushed up. "Wait, did you want me to?"

Mark shrugged. "No, I just thought most people would have liked to know."

Eduardo pinched the skin between his eyes, and then, as if he was being forced to ask at the point of a gun, said, "what were you doing in my underwear drawer?"

Mark ignored the question and replied, rather cheekily, "it was either roast chicken, or a dead rat, really, so you should be glad I went through your underwear drawer."

 

  
  
  


 

That night, Eduardo went to sleep thinking about how it was the first time he heard about Mark leaving the flat sometimes, as a human being. 

It was a Saturday the next day, and there was a movie (about recursive dreams or something) that he wanted to see. Maybe he could ask Mark if he wanted to go too. 

 

  
  
  


 

Mark didn't really let it show on his face, but it was clear that he had enjoyed the outing. After the movie, they talked about the ending, and they disagreed at first, but agreed to disagree, and before long Mark was showing Eduardo through short cuts in alleys, to get back home, especially when it started drizzling a bit. They hadn't brought an umbrella.

Mark had a peculiar gait, Eduardo noticed, as he followed. A sort of skip that wasn't a skip. It wasn't entirely ungraceful, but it looked a little clumsy at times, like he wasn't used to moving around as a human.

Mark was wearing Eduardo's faded Harvard hoodie, hands shoved in the kangaroo pocket, and black shorts. Once in a while, he looked back to see if Eduardo was following. He'd point at holes through walls sometimes, telling Eduardo how easy it would be if Eduardo weren't such a giant.

 

  
  
  


 

Mark reminded Eduardo of quiet times back when he was at Harvard, somehow. Times between parties, exam seasons, daily races to be the best. Times he spent reading in his single, on his bed, with a hot water bottle at his feet. A book that wasn't for school, wasn't for his father, just something nice, something an old and friendly secondhand book seller recommended.

He reminded Eduardo of quiet paths on the campus at 6AM. Of quiet things and people who sat in the morning mist, doing anything but stand out.

Eduardo wondered. Wondered about the vibe Mark was giving off, as he was led through gaps and alleys and paths only a stray would know of, where white smoke drifted upwards through fire escapes, reflecting in dirty windows of buildings old as time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! comment and/or leave a kudos if you liked it? haha... ...i.... really like comments and kudos....


	3. names

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to break the chapter I had planned to be chapter 3 into 2 (so these next few chapters are shorter each), so I will update twice this week.

For the next few days, it was fast-paced, and Eduardo's work got busier as other people started going off to beaches and resorts to spend the rest of summer.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Sometimes Mark liked to watch Eduardo work, from the third shelf of his bookcase. Eduardo never understood why that was a comfortable place at all, to which Mark simply replied that there was nothing to 'understand'.

Tonight however, without much of a warning, Mark had jumped from the shelf onto Eduardo's shoulder, which made Eduardo shriek because of his claws. 

Mark did, thankfully, retract them fast, and even bopped his head against the back of Eduardo's head as an apology, which shocked Eduardo into stupor because _Mark never did that_. Mark then jumped onto the table and then stared at the screen quite intently, making Eduardo look back and forth between his screen and Mark, uncertain what was going on.

Eduardo's laptop was open on an email from Dustin where he explained details of how his social networking website would work. Mark was flicking his tail back and forth, clearly intrigued, and Eduardo sat back, waiting for some kind of verdict from Mark. He wondered vaguely about what Mark used to do, back when he was still a human.

Eduardo didn't know much about Mark's past – sadly. The anecdote with his mom and the spatula was the only piece he got. 

Naturally, Eduardo was curious, but he never quite knew how to ask. 

Mark read through the email, tapping on Eduardo's hand with his paw whenever he wanted Eduardo to scroll down, eyes always glued to the screen.

The email had bits and parts of coding (Dustin also CC'd it to Andrew and some other programmer guy) and Mark scanned through those carefully, as if they made sense to him, which then occurred to Eduardo to ask: "do you code?"

Mark sat up straight but kept quiet. 

He didn't talk as a cat. Eduardo didn't know if it was because he couldn't, or if it was because he refused to.

Eduardo let Mark slip away from his desk and didn't turn back to see where he was going.

Mark didn't shapeshift in front of him, ever, either. Apparently, shapeshifting wouldn't work if the shapeshifter was being watched. It was an ingrained mechanic that made them stay in the shadows for centuries, and in many ways, it made sense.

When Mark came back, he was buttoning up a shirt that was about two sizes too big while wearing a pair of boxers that Eduardo had bought for him the other day.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Dustin's dating website sucks," Mark finally said, eyes trained on the screen. Eduardo was too distracted by the fact that Mark missed the top three buttons on his shirt to really act affronted for Dustin. "His coding is sloppy."

"Uh-huh," Eduardo said, frowning, mostly at himself. For being so distracted.

"He should group these elements into one box. This bit needs reworking from the third line onwards. There are some measurements that are off too over here, which'll make the content display off-center on some screens. This part of the code is weak and vulnerable."

Eduardo tried focusing, but it was decidedly hard. Mark talked really fast sometimes. "Wait— so you do know how to code?"

"Why does Dustin want to make a dating website? He sounds like a sad bachelor who's been successively unsuccessful with existing dating websites."

"You can code?"

"He should think bigger. Matchmake people with job opportunities, or something. Make it more special, somehow."

"You code?"

Mark seemed strangely impassioned though his tone remained flat and unaffected. It was clear that he wasn't going to honor Eduardo's question with an answer any time soon. The cogs in his mind were working, and Eduardo just waited it out.

" _Exclusivity_ ," Mark finally said. "That's something I think hasn't really been explored in most social networking sites nowadays. Exclusivity would attract people – people always want to be invited to exclusive events after all. Exclusive social networking."

Eduardo thought for a bit, nodding slowly. "That… does sound like an idea. Hold up, I'll write Dustin that. Or call him."

Mark shrugged, looked at the screen again, before saying, "I do code."

Eduardo opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. "Oh."

"My previous owner was a hacker."

"Your previous owner?"

"Sean."

"Sean?"

"Yes."

Eduardo squirmed in his seat nervously. "How many owners have you had?"

Mark looked at Eduardo, studying him with an inscrutable expression. "Including you, two."

Eduardo lowered his head. 

"Does it bother you?" Mark asked.

Eduardo looked up. "Uh, I mean. I think it's just— I'd rather not be an owner- _owner_. You're a person on your own, really. Or something. I don't… I don't technically own you anyways. And I don't need to! I'm fine with— whatever our arrangement is, exactly. Roommates?"

"I don't pay you," Mark remarked.

"You don't need to. I don't really need money."

Mark stayed quiet at that. Eduardo wondered if he might have said the wrong thing.

"D-don't get me wrong," Eduardo said. "I do want you here. I'm just— not as your owner. Um, did you— do you have papers though? Like, a passport?"

Mark nodded once. "I do. Back home."

Eduardo waited a little, to see if Mark would say where his home was, but he didn't. "Um. Did Sean— did Sean know you were a shapeshifter?"

Mark looked at Eduardo, and Eduardo understood, what with the pause, that Sean did. "I don't think so. I was mostly in my cat form; he threw a lot of parties, and I hid in the bar area where all the food was. I think it took him six months to realize I existed."

Eduardo frowned. "Wow. Okay. Um. That's terrible. Did he not notice his cat was missing?"

"He forgot he picked up a cat at all. He had been drunk. I think I was a part of a bet."

Eduardo wanted to frown deeper, but it hurt to wrinkle his forehead any further. "Um. Why did you stay with him, then?"

Mark shrugged. "I mean. I left, didn't I?" 

Eduardo didn't push for more. After a few minutes had elapsed, he asked, quite softly, after closing the lid of his laptop, "what do you want to eat for supper?"  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Two days later, Eduardo was so swamped with work he couldn't make it back home for supper. He walked into the apartment, looking for Mark as he tried to yank his shoes off of his feet, but the place was already really quiet.

Mark had fallen asleep on the couch in his human form, curled around Eduardo's pillow, which he had grabbed from the bedroom. It was so endearing that something started to hurt in Eduardo's chest, like he felt even more sorry to have been late.

He walked around as softly as possible, and went to check the voice message machine, only to find that Mark had listened to all of the ones Eduardo had left him, since there were no new messages, when there should have been at least five.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Eduardo decided to bring Mark to the offices a few days after. Mark had showed that he knew quite a bit about coding, and the team needed all the help they could get.

It was tricky, explaining who Mark was, especially to Dustin, who immediately recalled the "can you see this man, is there a man at all" photo of Mark that Eduardo had sent him in panic a few weeks ago.

Eduardo literally had to smother Dustin with both his hands before Dustin could talk about it, and Mark had looked at them both a bit curiously, saying, "nice to meet you, Dustin. I'm Mark, and I think you code like a kindergartener."

Eduardo made a face and said, "Mark, don't be rude."

Mark didn't even look at Eduardo. "You're not my mother, Wardo."

Dustin's eyes lit up at that. "Wardo?"

Mark rarely called Eduardo by his name, at all. Why did he have to bring it up here, at the office? In front of Dustin? 

The last time Mark ever mentioned it, was that night when Eduardo had 'discovered' him. 

Eduardo had suspected Mark had never really heard anyone call Eduardo by his name before, so he didn't know how to pronounce the whole thing. Not that "Eduardo" was complicated, but Wardo did seem like an easier alternative.

Maybe Eduardo should ask him about it, later.

"His name is a mouthful," Mark said. "Even his mom calls him Edu."

_Okay. Never mind then_ , Eduardo thought, narrowing his eyes at Mark.

"Edu!" Dustin cooed, visibly trying to suppress laughter, but also – something dawned on him, probably the same thing that dawned on Eduardo too, and Eduardo had to shove Dustin away before he mentioned it. 

_How did Mark even know what Eduardo's mom called him?_

"That's enough," Eduardo said. "Dustin, don't you have work to do?" He gestured with his lanky arms something abstract that was supposed to signify 'work'.

Dustin smiled winningly, though he was also frowning at Eduardo, probably trying to decipher his poorly executed gestures, "yes I do. But I'll be grabbing this fellow. I like him a lot."

Mark ducked away from Dustin trying to wrap his arm around his shoulder, which confused Dustin for a second before he just shrugged, putting his hands behind the back of his head. "Let me show you around the place and tell you all of Eduardo's secrets first. _Then_ we can talk coding."

That didn't sound good, Eduardo thought. 

"Remember your phone call meeting with Marlowe at 1PM sharp," Mark said from across the hall, before turning around to follow Dustin.

Everyone snapped their heads at that and stared questionably, especially Eduardo's PA, Lena.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"How did you know I had a phone call meeting with Marlowe?"

"Force of habit."

"What do you mean?"

"I used to plan out things for when you were absent, when I was a cat. I knew your schedule like the back of my hand. Nowadays, I check your schedule to kill time."

Eduardo ran his hand through his hair. "Lena— my PA— she wasn't pleased," he paused, then said, "everyone else wants to know who you are. To me."

"Not my problem."

Eduardo sighed, sinking into his chair.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Did your mom name you Mark?" Eduardo asked, casually, one evening as they ate dinner. 

Mark was eating a tuna fish salad that Eduardo had made him. He looked at Eduardo blankly, like Eduardo had just asked a stupid question (which frankly, he probably did, in hindsight), before saying, "yes."

"Did Sean call you Mark?"

Mark frowned a little. "No."

Eduardo took another bite. "What did he call you?"

Mark munched expressionlessly on his bread crumbs. "Cursed Cat. Sometimes just 'Curse', or just 'Cat'."

Eduardo looked at Mark, a little bewildered. "Okay. Is that. That's worse than Marlin or Menace, right?"

"Is that your Harvard diploma over there?" he pointed at the frame on the wall opposite of them.

"Yeah, it is," Eduardo said, carefully.

"Thought so," Mark said, "I also thought maybe it means you'd be smart and observant enough to pose more pertinent and worthwhile questions. But I guess it is, indeed, just a normal piece of paper, with some Latin words."

Eduardo sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Do you do this on purpose?"

"Do what on purpose?"

Eduardo narrowed his eyes at Mark. "Being. I don't know. Insufferable?"

"Do you hate it when I call you Wardo?" Mark asked.

Eduardo softened at that, even though Mark had just evaded his question. "No, it's fine. I like it." 

He meant it.

"Good," Mark said, visibly gratified.

And then, after a beat, when Mark finished his tuna salad and was bringing the dish over to the sink, Mark looked at Eduardo again, and said, "thanks for not… calling me Menace anymore."

Eduardo smiled a little sadly. "Of course."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked this, leave a comment? 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


	4. thunderstorms

July had seen days of Eduardo trying to pull Mark off the laptop, dragging him to eat and sleep. Mark had gone on several long coding tears for the past few weeks, and it was just not healthy for him at all. Sometimes when Mark was really tired, he'd even turn into his cat form, to preserve energy, and that would worry the hell out of Eduardo. 

"I think you've lost a pound, Mark, that's not good for your inner cat," Eduardo said, sighing dramatically, when they were on the couch, a movie playing on the television. Mark was in his human form, reading a book.

"Stop saying inner cat," he said.

"I don't know what else to call it."

"Just watch your movie," Mark said, putting his feet in Eduardo's lap as he plunged back into reading.

Eduardo exhaled softly, patting Mark's shins, studying his pale skin, counting the stray freckles he found there, absentmindedly.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
August was around the corner sooner than Eduardo had expected. 

Eduardo was usually okay with thunderstorms. They didn't really bother him unless he was stranded in a restaurant, without an umbrella or while wearing his good leather shoes.

Mid-August storms were rare though, in New York. They would show up on the weather forecast, but most times, they would head south and not north, and end up not happening.

It was the first of the season, perhaps the last one too. Mark didn't seem too bothered, but he was in his human form, and he looked like he was either perpetually bothered or completely unaffected by everything, so it was hard to tell.  
  
  
  
Eduardo supposed his father didn't plan it, to call when it was dark and stormy outside.

His father had never liked the website project Dustin was working on. He said that distractions were going to be the downfall of the company; people should be focused, not scattered. He kept bringing up the question of what would happen if Dustin did make it work. Would he leave the company? Take away everyone who was working with him on this "side" project too?

His father had stopped being a risk-taker ever since he played his worst hand back in Sāo Paulo. In fact, he had also stopped being a good businessman, investor, and father altogether. 

Though Eduardo could understand the paranoia and anxiety that came after a failure, he still couldn't agree with his father, and found it hurtful even, to have to argue with him incessantly about the same things, about the choices Eduardo had to make with his own business and investments. For years.

"Pai, if ever I do fucking fail in my future endeavors, I want you to know it's not because you were right, but because of you, period. _Me entende? Quando vai entender que me está machucando_?" he said. 

He was so angry he could feel his face redden even without seeing it. His cheeks were raised, and his jaw ached from holding back on tears for too long. 

Mark had entered the living room at that point, as a cat. Noiselessly he padded towards Eduardo, paws soft against the wooden floor. He disappeared behind the couch, then came out from the other side, leaping onto a cushion. He looked at Eduardo uncertainly.

Eduardo closed his eyes, feeling like he was going to cry, again. He was still holding onto his phone (he had hung up) and felt ridiculously distressed. Seeing Mark made him remember that other time several months ago, when Mark had been Marlin and had sat next to him, quiet and understanding. And now Mark had witnessed it again, this falling out Eduardo was having with his father that was the size of a chasm.

When Eduardo opened his eyes again, Mark was in his human form. He had put on a light blue t-shirt that had been squeezed in between the seats. It was all rumpled and uneven – a Foo Fighters t-shirt Eduardo had gotten after attending a concert with a client. 

Mark sat close, not touching, but close, and he waited. 

Waited for Eduardo to tell him what to do, what to say.

Eduardo smiled sadly. "I'm okay. It's just the same old thing. I'll be fine."

Mark leaned in and rested his head on Eduardo's shoulder. Eduardo hesitated a bit before resting his on Mark's.

For a while, they stayed like that. Watching lightning flash by. Listening to thunder miss them by miles.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Hard summer rain came pouring at about 11:35PM. The air eased up finally, and so did the tension.

"I think," Eduardo said, "I just. Every time he calls in, I think that. Maybe this time he's changed. But this has been going on for years. He's never changed, and the more I wish it, the more I hurt myself."

Mark rubbed his cheek in that cat-like way against Eduardo's shoulder, as if trying to find a better angle to rest his head against it.

Eduardo wondered if Mark kept contact with his parents.

Maybe Mark was in a worse situation back home. Maybe Mark found Eduardo's situation completely ridiculous.

What he didn't expect was for Mark to say, very softly, eyes on their reflection in the sleeping TV screen, "I was supposed to go to Harvard."

Eduardo turned his head, nose burying in Mark's hair, a little confused at the non sequitur. He waited a beat before saying, "oh?"

"My parents were really proud."

Eduardo smiled briefly.

"The day they opened my letter. They were," Mark paused, clearly trying to conjure the memory up, then he said, "they were over the moon."

Eduardo vaguely remembered his mother's soft _parabéns meu amor_ , remembered his father's stern _I expected nothing less_ more than he should.

"But then I got into trouble," Mark continued.

Eduardo looked at their reflection in the screen. Mark was looking back.

"I fucked up," Mark said. "I let them down."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Is that… why…"

_Is that why you ran away and became a stray cat?_

Mark nodded. He pulled his knees to his chest, some of his weight falling onto Eduardo. Eduardo had to reposition a little, to wrap an arm behind Mark. 

"My father had a falling out with a business partner. It cost him a lot," Eduardo said, sighing, as he realized Mark wasn't going to add anything more. "He's been cold and distant ever since. Untrusting. Even of, well, his own son."

Mark closed his eyes for a while, then said, "that's stupid."

Eduardo scoffed. "Most people say I should be the one to give in."

Mark gave him a sidelong glance and then, said, "most people aren't intelligent."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Eduardo smiled sadly. "I don't think you let your parents down."

Mark shrugged. "I was involved in a cheating scandal."

Eduardo pulled back so he could look at Mark. 

He didn't need to ask, he could tell from Mark's body language, the way he sat, the way he was fiddling with his fingers, that Mark hadn't cheated.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Eduardo asked.

Mark shook his head. Eduardo felt a little hurt somehow but quickly recovered.

"Can I pet you?" he asked instead, out of the blue.

Mark turned his head just enough to give Eduardo an expressionless look. "I'm assuming it means you feel better."

He ducked Eduardo's hand but stretched his torso once, against Eduardo before leaving the couch. Eduardo laughed sheepishly, realizing he'd forgotten Mark didn't have any pants on.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
A bit later though, when Mark was sleeping in his cat form next to him on his king-size bed, Eduardo thought: _Mark had tried to comfort him today_. 

He smiled to the ceiling, to himself, feeling a little better already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. " _Me entende? Quando vai entender que me está machucando_ ": 'do you understand me? When will you understand that you're hurting me?'
> 
> 2\. " _parabéns meu amor_ ": 'congratulations, love'
> 
> 3\. I don't know how to speak Portuguese, for all I know this is completely wrong
> 
> 4\. Comments make my day... and it gives me hope to know there are more TSNers out there in 2019....!


	5. departures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aye

When Eduardo woke up the first time that morning, it was still dark. His alarm clock displayed 4:48AM, its red digits a little jarring to his eyes. Yawning, he turned on his side, pushing away the cover so it was under his arm instead of over. 

It was a little hot – stifling even – so he edged away from Mark, who was – rather unhelpfully – in his human form, burning like a furnace. 

Mark quickly pressed into his back again, making Eduardo exhale deeply. He didn't bother moving away however, only closed his eyes and sank his face into his pillow, sleep overcoming him.

 

  
  
  
  


It was by the second time he woke up that same morning, the clock barely reading six o'clock, that he realized something wasn't exactly right.

 

  
  
  
  


Mark was _burning_. 

The spot where their bodies connected – Mark's back against Eduardo's, the light touch of their spines – almost hurt from how hot it felt.

"Mark?" he murmured, his voice still scratchy with drowsiness.

Mark flinched as Eduardo turned around to look at him. 

"Mark, are you alright?" he asked. He looked sleepily at the window on the other side of the bed. It was wide open, but it seemed like there was no wind coming through. He tried to pull the sheets away from Mark, but Mark held onto them tightly.

"Mark, you're burning up. Are you okay?" 

Mark nodded, curling up into himself.

Eduardo frowned, reaching out so he could feel Mark's forehead. When he did however, Mark whimpered, his eyes squeezing tight, his breath short, a little choked, and then, without warning, a moan escaped him.

The sound sent shivers down Eduardo's spine, and he removed his hand almost immediately.

Mark was definitely a little feverish, but not as much as Eduardo thought he would be, considering how bad he looked.

"Hey, I'll get you some water," Eduardo said, getting off the bed. 

But before he could leave, Mark grabbed his wrist, looking up at him with eyes he could barely keep open. 

"What's wrong?" Eduardo said as he settled back. He was much more awake now, and much more concerned. He felt for Mark's forehead again, and this time, Mark leaned into it, even rubbed against his hand, like a cat would. Eduardo's fingers brushed against his curls, and for a moment Eduardo let himself indulge in their softness.

After a hot minute however, Mark finally spoke. His voice was raspier than usual, laced with a subtle kind of neediness, a stark contrast to his usual apathetic feline torpor. " _Wardo_."

Eduardo frowned, his concern increasing by the second. "I'm here. I'm right here."

Mark closed his eyes, and then opened them again, looking at him with a certain haziness one could easily describe as bedroom-y. The way people would describe Marilyn Monroe's eyes, if Mark didn't look so under the weather.

Mark sat up, turning and leaning on Eduardo, so that his side pressed into his. There was a weird kind of edginess to his body that Eduardo couldn't quite understand.

"—need you," Mark whispered. He was breathing hard – his shoulders rising with every breath he took.

"I'm here," Eduardo assured, though he felt moderately uncertain of where this was all going.

Mark nuzzled Eduardo's shoulder a bit more roughly, like he was going to push Eduardo off the bed.

"Okay? Uh," Eduardo said, letting Mark do whatever he was… doing. 

After a few seconds however, Mark stopped and pulled back for a bit, and looked at him, _scowling_.

"I need you to touch me," Mark said, in his much more familiar almost-scathing monotone.

It would have been almost reassuring to hear something Eduardo was more acquainted with, if it weren't for what Mark had just said.

"What?" Eduardo deadpanned. 

Mark looked a little more awake now, a little more impatient too. He repeated, slower, putting emphasis on words Eduardo was finding absolutely terrifying now, "I _need_ you— to _touch_ me."

"But," Eduardo didn't know what to say to that. He wasn't sure how to interpret it at all, didn't even know if he should. "Like, um. P-pet you?"

Mark rolled his eyes slightly, like he was too lazy to roll them properly. "Is that what you humans do when you have sex? _Pet each other_?"

Eduardo widened his eyes in shock. "When we _what_?" 

Eduardo pulled away so abruptly, Mark lost balance. His shirt – Eduardo's shirt in fact – lifted a little and exposed some skin. It looked flushed, compared to his usual paleness. Eduardo looked away when his eyes reached Mark's thighs. 

He wasn't wearing pants. Again.

"Want me to take my shirt off?" Mark said, rather evenly, lifting said shirt by the hem, when he caught Eduardo staring. It was so casual; Mark could have been asking about the weather. Eduardo opened his mouth and closed it then opened it again, utterly shell-shocked. 

"Ye—? NO! No, I mean no, oh my god, absolutely not, please just— keep it on," Eduardo answered, stupidly flustered and mildly upset. 

Was he having some sort of deeply inappropriate dream about his _cat_? Was this all some kind of really bad cosmic joke?

Mark was leaning over again, looking a little peeved. But then Mark's neck flushed and his ears too, and he was looking away, unable to look Eduardo in the eye. 

"It's," Mark murmured uneasily, "it's been like this for hours, and I've tried pushing it down but," Mark put his hand over his lap, clearly trying to hide his crotch, "it eased up when you touched me," he continued, and then a little more determinedly, said, "I want you to touch me more."

Eduardo frowned, feeling mildly unwell. "I'm not sure this is right."

Mark looked a little wilted, hearing that.

Eduardo shook his head. "No, I mean. I think you're… this is like…" he gestured something very nonconcrete. "I don't think you really… _want_ this."

Mark sat back, changing his position so that his back was against the headboard. His legs and thighs seemed to tremble. "You don't want me," he said, with a certain kind of conclusive finality.

Eduardo shook his head. "I didn't say that—"

"Okay," Mark said, dismissive. He turned away.

"You'd regret this if I pet—" Eduardo scratched the back of his neck,"if I touc— _fulfil_ your current needs—"

"I can fulfil your needs, if you prefer."

"My— what?"

Mark shrugged, "I can suck you off."

" _What?_ No, I—" Eduardo frowned. "Mark," he said, breathing a little hard, "we _can't_. It's not— That's not—"

Mark squirmed a bit, and that was when Eduardo noticed that the sheets under him were a shade darker. 

They were damp, but it didn't smell like urine. 

It smelled like sex.

And Mark looked so ashamed it made Eduardo's chest tighten.

"I should go," Mark murmured.

Eduardo's heart broke a little, at that. "What—" 

Mark didn't look at him, kept his eyes on the floor. "I don't think I should stay."

"Mark, you— what do you mean, you don't think you should stay?" 

Mark slipped off of bed, wrapping his arms around himself, like he was keeping himself from trembling too hard. Eduardo waited a beat, for Mark to answer, but Mark didn't.

He only grabbed a pair of jeans and left the room.

Left the flat.

 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

Eduardo stumbled about trying to put his pants so he could chase after Mark, but he wasted too much time and lost him at the elevators, the numbers on the display going down quickly, without pause.

He was tapping on the 'down' button impatiently when his phone rang. He had almost shrieked because he had forgotten it was in his pocket. He picked up, fumbling, realizing that his fingers were a little shaky. 

It was Lena. 

She told him he needed to get on a plane to SFO in less than three hours for an emergency meeting. Something had gone terribly wrong in the last hour. For a few seconds, Eduardo thought she was talking about Mark, but then she proceeded to tell him the details of the successive cyber-attacks launched on the servers of a Fortune 500 client. 

"Personal information, credit card data, financial records. _Everything_. Of over two million customers," Lena said, through the phone. Eduardo could _hear_ her frown, but really couldn't care less. "You need to be there. Terrell and Lee are furious."

The elevator was not coming up fast enough, so Eduardo took the stairs. 

Honestly, he wasn't in the mood to think about work at all; he responded to Lena with curt and brief answers, saying nothing and promising nothing about the cyber-attacks.

He thought about Mark instead, about the way he looked when he said _I need you_ and _I should go_. Eduardo wished he had just done what Mark wanted, because at least then, Mark would be safe at home, safe with him.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
 

Reaching the first floor, the main entrance, and then the streets, Eduardo found himself wondering why the fuck he didn't just _touch him_.

Eduardo liked Mark, after all. It was a no-brainer; it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure it out. Really.

He should have just dealt with it. But then – it wouldn't have been morally correct, right? The dilemma resurged again in his mind, and suddenly Eduardo wanted to mock the fact that he had somehow squeezed himself between a rock and a hard place and like the Great Wall or something, at six in the morning, without even fucking _trying_.

Just because Eduardo liked Mark (which honestly was news to Eduardo, because he knew he was attracted to him, but when had he come to _like_ Mark?) didn't mean they should be having hot and bothered kinky… well, whatever! Unhelpfully, his brain brought up the fact that Mark had offered to suck him off, and then provided oddly sensual closeups of Mark's curved lips. He flushed up instantly, feeling like his head would burst, earning himself a curious glance from the doorman, before missing a step and almost tripping over his own legs.

 

  
  
  
  


 

_Did Mark even like him?_

That was the problem – or was it? Mark had never shown much interest in Eduardo. Eduardo had changed numerous times in front of him (not on purpose, Mark just had a way to pad into his bedroom or washroom quietly while he was changing and _not_ announcing his presence) and he always had that inscrutable expression of condescending disinterest. But then – there was that other time when Mark had walked in on Eduardo coming out of the shower and into the bedroom, and Mark had turned the other way in a hurry, right? Almost ran into the dresser too. 

Eduardo ruffled his hair anxiously, scanning the streets again.

Still, Mark was nowhere to be found. 

Not in the emptiness of the lobby, nor in the streets, nor in the hustle and bustle of an otherwise ordinary New York city morning.

Eduardo's phone went off again, this time a text from Lena with the details of his flight.

It was going to be a long and dreadful day, he thought, staring down the street, graying with rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments give me life... I really appreciate every single one. If you liked this, I would love to know your thoughts! Thank you so much for reading!


	6. beep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I posted a new fic the other day, so that's why this update's a little slow.... this one's a little short too, but I promise the next chapter's a little longer, and is scheduled to be added on August 2.

It took a total of ten hours for Eduardo to get from his door to the doorway of a conference room in San Francisco. 

It had been the worst ten hours of his life. And it didn't help that it was raining. He hadn't thought about bringing an umbrella – _him_ , a man with five weather applications on his phone – so he ruined his suit, which he had never done before, except for that one time when he was nine and his father had dragged him by the hand in a hurry, and he couldn't get under the umbrella in time. 

Not that it really mattered. Given the ongoing and relentless cyber-attacks, it was chaos in the offices at Terrell and Lee, and people were either wearing wet three-pieces, wet pajamas, wet graphic t-shirts or wet five-star hotel bathrobes, as they typed frantically on their computers, like it was the end of the world.

(Well, what with Mark gone, it sure felt that way.)

Eduardo couldn't help but think about him the whole time. About Mark in front of Eduardo's old computer, coding until daylight hit the back of his head. Coding until he was done with a major function, until he turned back to look at Eduardo with a small smile. A small smile like he'd just won something that wasn't a big deal to most people but definitely was to him.

Eduardo had left a note at home, just in case. He also left a bunch of voice messages on the landline, calling back every other half hour, hoping Mark would pick up, even though he never did.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
_Beep_.

"Mark. I'm— I know you must know, already, but just in case. I'm on an emergency business trip. I hope you're all right. I'm worried about you. Please call back – or answer, if you're there."

 _Beep_.

"San Fran is horrible. I want to be back home. I want to look for you. I'm worried sick. I think I'm going to get sicker. I got sick, on the plane ride here. I never get sick on the plane. I hope you're there. It'll mean you're safe. Right?" 

_Beep_.

"I wish you were here. I feel like you'd know where the vulnerabilities are. Some people here can't tell the difference between DoS and SQL injection attacks. I can hear you say it, almost – that I don't know either. I wish I could hear you say it. Please call back. Please. I beg you."

 _Beep_.

"Drink water. Remember to drink water. Please…"

 _Beep_.

"The attacks are slowing down. We're getting somewhere, I think some of us can even leave. It's been a long night. I miss home, I miss you. You'll think I'm a sap, but that's how it is… It's only been a day – albeit a long one. I think I might be able to fly back tomorrow evening. Lena is scheduling a flight – but she's also telling me to visit some clients before I leave – since I'm here already—"

 _Beep_.

"— sorry, I got cut off. Tomorrow – I'll be back. I promise. I would leave now but the flights are full. I— don't want to do anything work-related. I'm going back tomorrow, and I'm— I'll take care of you. I promise. I— please call me if you are there."

 _Beep_.

"I know I probably don't deserve to sleep better. But… I'll sleep better – if you call."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
He didn't know how many messages he left, wondered how many Mark would have listened to, if Mark were there.

God. What if Mark wasn't there? What if Mark – Eduardo stopped himself before he could think too much about it.

Mark had been, essentially, going through some sort of _heat_ , right?

What was Eduardo thinking, to leave him? To leave New York? How was Mark going to deal with it on his own? What if he had come back home, looking for Eduardo only to find him gone? Would he run away again, heartbroken? 

Eduardo closed his eyes. 

Somehow, a very unwelcome word appeared in mind.  
  


_Sean_. 

Did Sean… Had Sean… _Fuck_ , Sean _did_ … didn't he? Eduardo thought, nauseous.

Maybe that was why Mark had stayed with Sean for so long, even though Sean had always neglected him.

The one thing Eduardo couldn't provide… Sean was able to. Eduardo could imagine it – Sean being the sleeziest shit, the worst pet owner, some deviant with no sense of morality. Eduardo became so angry just thinking about it he tossed and turned on the hotel bed, feeling unreasonably and torturously agitated.

Mark said he could survive on very little too. Maybe he didn't need Eduardo mothering him about food. At all. So Sean was a good match, despite being an irresponsible cat owner, because he didn't nag him about eating and staying healthy, and was able to satisfy his…, well, heat-induced needs.

Maybe Mark— maybe Mark had left the flat to go look for Sean.

It was disgusting to think about; Eduardo couldn't help but grimace. He tried to will away the thought, but it was no use.

Paranoia clawed its way up his throat. He tightened his grip on the hotel bedsheets, trying to contain how miserable he felt. It was going to be hours before he could slip into sleep, if he even did.

The hotel room was quiet, its silence hollow, save from the hum of the AC.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The next day came around slow. Eduardo was sat in the back of a cab, going through his phone photos, nervous and tired, the way he would be, only tenfold worse, when he hadn't slept well the night before.

There were hundreds of blurry photos of Mark, back from when Mark was still Marlin. Eduardo never deleted a single one. 

He scrolled down to the single one of Mark as a human, a shot of his back, the one he had sent Dustin.

It was blurry. Fuzzy, even. Mark had noticed him at the very last second. He was holding a bottle of beer, about to look back, about to move out of the shot.  
  
For what it was worth, Eduardo thought, Mark looked good in this photo – candid, soft, real. It was a nice take, almost like an old grainy polaroid photo, that had faded with time, faded because someone had cherished it.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
As he looked up, out the window, watching cars streamlining into the horizon, Eduardo recalled a conversation he had with Mark a while back, perhaps on the same day he had taken the photo. 

"Is there a reason you don't meow?" Eduardo had asked.

Mark had looked down at his can of tuna, swallowed dryly before saying, "people don't usually respond to vulnerability correctly. There are more effective ways of communication."

Eduardo hadn't really understood him back then.

Perhaps now, he did.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Eduardo didn't notify Lena of the change of plan. He booked a first-class ticket straight from the counter at the airport, waited two hours in the VIP lounge, had it changed again when his flight was delayed. Anything to get back to New York as fast as possible. Anything to get back to his apartment, look for traces of Mark. 

The ride home on the cab was the longest segment of the journey. Whenever they hit a red light, he would look around at people's faces, searching for hints of Mark.

Mark. Mark. Mark.

It was unlikely for him to actually find Mark in the crowd, but he looked anyways, because it was better than nothing, better than wallowing in the what ifs that whirled around in his mind, brewing dread, bit by bit.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
_Beep_

"I'm on my way, Mark. Only a bit more. Please… just please. Be there. Be safe. Be okay."

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments seriously mean the world to me... (and like 99.9% of writers t b h) and i promise you i will love yours to bits.... should you feel this was good enough to make you leave one. I would also love to know how many of you are out there, reading new TSN fics in 2019....
> 
> thank you so much for reading!!


	7. first instincts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the longer wait. There may be hiccups in my posting schedule now since my laptop gave up on me. I won't be getting it back before a week or two or more. Life's been a little bumpy for me lately too. I'll try to keep to my schedule but if there are a few delays.... sorry in advance.
> 
> This chapter contains mild sexual content.

When Eduardo finally reached his doormat, his hands were shaking badly, and he struggled for a few seconds, trying to get the key to fit into the keyhole.

Finally, after an eternity, the door opened, and without taking his shoes off he stalked to the living room, looking around. There wasn't a single shadow or trace of anyone, which scared the hell out of him, but then, he saw the landline telephone. It wasn't flashing a red light.  
  
That meant that someone had listened to the voice messages.

That meant that Mark—

"Mark!" Eduardo cried out. He repeated his name when he entered the study room, the kitchen, the balcony, the bathroom, his own room, the utility room –

Maybe Mark had just listened to the voice messages and left. Eduardo was about to give up before he walked past the guest bedroom. He sighed with relief, a single tear escaping the corner of his eye, which he wiped off immediately with the back of his sleeve.  
  
Mark was on the bed, curled around a pillow, blanket drooping onto the floor. The room smelled heavily of— well. Eduardo softened his expression.

"Mark," Eduardo said, softly, not wanting to startle Mark more than he probably already had. 

Mark didn't respond, and if he had been in his cat form, Eduardo could imagine he wouldn't even flick his tail.

"Mark," Eduardo murmured again, "I'm sorry. I'm—" he paused, putting down his jacket. "Thank god," he exhaled unsteadily, "I'm so glad you're home."

Mark turned his head a little, as if to look over his shoulder, but then turned back and curled tighter around the pillow.

"I had a business trip. There was an emergency – cyberattacks. I had to go and appease the clients," he approached the bed and sat on the furthest corner from Mark, unsure how to proceed. "I'm— I didn't even tell Lena I'd be back earlier; she's going to be so mad. Did you listen to my voice messages? I was worried."

Mark looked at him sideways, and all Eduardo could see was an expression between hurt and exhausted.

"I'll go wash my hands, get out of these clothes and get you a glass of water— a-and then," Eduardo looked determinedly at the pattern on the sheet, "I'll do whatever you need."  
  
  
  
  
  
Mark hadn't moved an inch when Eduardo was back. Eduardo placed the glass of water on the bedside table before sitting back down on the bed. "Are you feeling a bit better? You… seem a little better."

A little less twitchy, mostly.

Mark looked at Eduardo again, quiet, expression inscrutable. He didn't really have that desperate look in his demeanor anymore. "I've been better," he answered, finally, voice slightly raspy, as if he hadn't used it in a while, or as if he had kept using it, over and over.

Eduardo looked away. After a beat, Eduardo asked, voice a few notches lower. "Did you go see Sean?"

Mark narrowed his eyes at Eduardo then scowled. "And why exactly would I do that?"

Eduardo frowned, a little flustered at Mark's scrutiny. "I thought— maybe he could… um, help?"

Mark blinked. "He couldn't feed me on a regular basis if someone paid him to."

Eduardo bit his lower lip. "Then how did you deal with it?"

"I just... did?"

"It looked painful—"

"It was," a pause, "it is."

Eduardo frowned. "Then how—"

"If you really want me to spell it out, I touched myself. A lot. My hands are a little sore," Mark murmured, then looked away, "this's never happened before."

Eduardo blushed a little, but then focused on the second clause. "It's… never happened before?"

Mark had propped himself up a little, on his elbows, turning so that he could look at Eduardo. For a few seconds, Eduardo was distracted by the curls that stuck to Mark's forehead, the mild flush on his face, the way his own button-down looked on Mark, oversized and. Just.

Ugh.

"I thought I could just turn into a cat and find a place to hide, but I couldn't."

Eduardo frowned, mildly confused. "You couldn't?"

"Yeah," Mark responded, curt. Tired. "Don't make me repeat myself."

Eduardo nodded gently. "Have you eaten?"

Mark looked away. 

Eduardo stood up without missing a beat. "I'll get you something—"

"Don't bother," Mark said.

Eduardo looked up and somehow felt like he couldn't meet Mark's eye. He looked at the sheets, and then, murmured, "let's go to my bed. Our bed."

Mark shook his head. "No."

Eduardo put a hand on Mark's shoulder, but Mark flinched, so he quickly retracted it. "Mark. I'll take care of you – if you still want me to. Let's get you more comfortable first. Okay?"

"No."

Eduardo froze. "Is that no for—"

"I don't want to move."

"Okay. I just— I always thought you hated this room."

Mark looked at Eduardo wearily. "I do."

"Then why—"

"Because you don't want me."

Eduardo closed his eyes, then opened them. "I never said that."

"You think I need to wait until you spell it out for me to get it? I might be a feral cat, but that doesn't mean my IQ is necessarily below 152.18."

"152.18?" _Jesus Christ_. "I'm not doubting your intelligence quotient— and you're not feral—"

"Then what are you fucking saying—"

"You know, for a genius, you aren't the brightest tool in the shed either. How in the world did you think I would react to my shapeshifter cat going into heat and coming onto me at 6 in the mornin—" Eduardo bit his lip, trying to stop himself. He was upset. He was really upset, but he didn't want Mark to feel that he was. Too late now though. Mark looked hostile.

"I guess I should have considered who the actual _pussy_ was. Sorry I overestimated you," Mark returned.

Eduardo glared, closed his eyes, and exhaled. " _Mark_. That's not fair—"

"Now you're just mothering me. And you think that's what I want."

"No. I don't— I know that's not what you want. You want—"

"Then what made you change your mind?"

Eduardo had to double take. "What?"

"You said you're going to take care of me. What made you change your mind? Some sort of cross-country epiphany?"

"Cross-country epiph— no! Mark, I was _worried_ about you—"

"It's harder to run away in my human form."

Eduardo almost whiplashed. "That's— what?"

"It's the heat."

"What—"

"It won't go, and I can't turn while I'm in heat— it's fucking stupid."

"Wait what—"

"I thought you liked me."

Eduardo placed his hands on Mark's shoulders. The conversation was moving too fast for him.

"Mark," he exhaled shakily, "why did you want to run away?" 

Eduardo was trembling. _Mark had wanted to run away._ Eduardo knew that Mark did, the fact that he had run off was indication enough, granted, but it still really hurt to hear it in so many words.

Mark looked away slightly, just a small shift of his eyes. Eduardo couldn't quite tell what it meant.

Shame? Embarrassment? Sadness?  
  
  
  
  
  
A broken heart turning cold?  
  
  
  
  
  
"First instinct," Mark said, before he looked up again at Eduardo, eyes a cloudy teal. "I can't help it. You don't want me."

Eduardo softened his expression.  
  
  
  
  
  
Mark had run away from home, run away from Sean, run away from Eduardo.

It was his first instinct.  
  
  
  
  
  
"You're blaming yourself," Mark remarked. 

Eduardo let out a brief chuckle, running a hand through his hair before feeling sadness setting at the bottom of his stomach. "First instinct."

"It shouldn't be."

"Nor should yours be running away," Eduardo murmured.

Mark shrugged. "I— I stayed."

"Because you couldn't run away."

"I can run as a human too."

"You listened to my voice messages."

"I did. I drank water."

"I should have told you to eat too."

"You're not my mother."

"I don't want to be."

"You said you didn't want to be my owner either."

"Yeah, I don't," Eduardo looked down at his hands.

He could feel Mark leaning in. Mark then asked, softly, "then what do you want to be?"  
  
  
  
  
  
Question of the century.  
  
  
  
  
  
Eduardo looked up at Mark, and Mark looked – different. There was something in his eyes that wasn't there before. Eduardo swallowed dry.

"I was human first," Mark said, like he wanted to draw a line somewhere, like he wanted to normalize this as much as he could. 

Eduardo smiled sadly.  
  
  
  
  
  
"And you still are," Eduardo said. He thought of the blurry picture of Mark on his phone.  
  
  
  
  
  
Mark squirmed a little, and Eduardo realized he seemed to look a little flushed again.

"I'll wash the sheets," Mark promised, like he was promising something urgent. "Tomorrow. I'll—"

Eduardo gave Mark a look, and then shook his head. "No."

Mark bit his lower lip. "No?"

"Let's not talk about tomorrow," Eduardo suggested, "I'm going to take care of you, and then you'll rest, and I'll get you dinner, and then you'll rest some more."

Mark writhed nervously. "You're going to—"

"I'm going to touch you and make you feel really good. Just to be clear. Is that okay?" Eduardo asked, steadily, gently, trying to read Mark, trying to see if he was alright, but then flushed up belatedly as he realized what he had just said. "Unless you don't want me to— that's fine too—I just want to—"

"I'm not some charity case," Mark said, but there was no real heat to his words. He even looked a little surprised.

"I know," Eduardo said. 

"Just yesterday morning you were such a prude," Mark said, sinking back into a pillow.

"Take it or leave it, Mark," Eduardo goaded tentatively.

Mark studied Eduardo for a beat, and then, unpredictably, dimpled. Eduardo had never seen his dimples go that deep. He mirrored the smile, something untwisting itself in his gut.

Mark's dimples were beautiful, Eduardo thought.

Yesterday morning suddenly felt like a distant past.  
  
  
  
  
  
Eduardo climbed onto the bed and crawled over Mark, cautious, watching Mark's every little gesture, every flicker in his expression, however minute. Mark didn't stop him, only held his gaze, held his breath.  
  
  
  
Eduardo took care of him, slowly, firmly, as promised.

It was more than just "taking care" of Mark. But for now, it was what it was.  
  
  
  
  
  
(In the beginning, Eduardo's touches were hesitant, and he always had to look at Mark, always had to ask, in some form or another, _is this okay? should he be touching him more? here? there? could he continue? was Mark feeling good?_ )

(Mark was unexpectedly timid, more soft-spoken, only said _about time_ when Eduardo had reached his dick, which made Eduardo smile into his skin.)  
  
  
  
  
  
(But then Mark came – full-body tremble, soft repressed moans, with his eyes squeezed tight, head tipping back into the pillow – just from Eduardo's hands caressing his sides, fingers tracing his curves, the lines of his body, the signs of raw desire.

"You've done this before," Mark had said, eyes half-mast.

"Not quite like this," Eduardo had whispered, earnest, lips against Mark's flushed skin. Because he had never, not really. He'd never taken care of anyone like this.

"You smell good," Mark said, his arm over his eyes.

Mark had come again when Eduardo's fingers were wrapped around him. Again when Eduardo nosed the length of his member, his eyes closed in reverence.

Again and again, when Eduardo's fingers pushed into Mark, when he left small words and kisses against the inside of Mark's thighs. When he said, "you're so beautiful, Mark."

Again and again, until Mark was finally there, arching his back, curling his toes, a few last gasps of breath escaping his mouth, a brief and single murmur of _Wardo_. 

And Eduardo was there, took care of him, cleaned him up gently, told him he was going to be all right, half-carried him to the master bedroom, tucked him in, lulled him to sleep, promising him the world. 

The world and more.)  
  
  
  
  
  
(It had been quiet, mostly. Mark had done everything to keep his moans and gasps in. 

He was ashamed – maybe, still. Before Eduardo got off the bed, Mark had said, an unprompted and soft, _thank you_.

Eduardo had wished he could lean down to kiss him, on the lips, tell him it was all right, to not be ashamed.)

 

(But he couldn't kiss him. Not yet.

Eduardo pressed his forehead against Mark's. 

His fever was finally gone.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading... I would love to know your thoughts on this chapter... I've been sorely insecure about it since day 1... anyways, thanks again!!


	8. mornings after

Eduardo fed Mark basa fish, roast chicken, Peking duck, sashimi, t-bone steak, and lobster for the days that followed. For once, Mark didn't put up much of a fight, and ate diligently, didn't skip breakfasts, and most importantly didn't bicker about how expensive the food was. 

Eduardo made a mental note to keep a good stock of food for Mark – for when his future heats came around.

It was decidedly strange to think that way. It took Eduardo a few steps into the kitchen to realize he had thought that at all – that it was going to be a thing now, Mark's heats.

He had to take a moment to really digest the whole concept.

He would have to set up reminders for it, too. Schedule work around it. 

Lena had been very displeased with him when he had canceled all the meetings in San Francisco just to come back to New York a day early. She wasn't going to like knowing that he needed a day off or two – for every… every month? Two months? Year? How often was it going to happen anyway?

He watched Mark pad along the hallway in his cat form. Mark looked into their bedroom, and then turned back to give Eduardo this lazy look before settling there, at the doorway, like always.  
  
  
  
  
  
For the first few days, Mark only ate and slept in his cat form, and didn't do much else. He didn't speak, and he didn't turn into his human form either.

Eduardo wondered if it was because he could recover faster that way, or something else altogether.

Eduardo became a little worried, but Mark would reassure him by sleeping next to him or in his lap, or in between his back and the back of his swivel chair. And if he was on the floor, he would flick his tail at Eduardo testily, like old days.

Still, Eduardo would check up on him every once in a while, leaving voice messages all day long, still hoping Mark would pick up for once (he tried to imagine Mark press his paw into the answer button, and sighed at the thought). 

Eduardo would also poke him, or push him off whatever surface Mark was resting on, just to tease him, just to get a bigger reaction out of him.

"You're not… unable to turn back into a human, right?" Eduardo had asked Mark, on the third night. Mark gave him an inscrutable cat expression before trotting into the kitchen, coming back human and naked, with a beer in hand.

Eduardo almost spat out his red wine. Mark gave him a small smile before grabbing for a set of clothes on the back of the sofa.  
  
  
  
  
  
Mark was completely recovered the morning after that. Eduardo had woken up to the washing machine tumbling clothes, as well as the faint tapping sounds of someone typing on a laptop. 

It seemed that Mark was back on track with Dustin and the social network website, like there hadn't really been a hiccup at all. 

However, instead of just working on it, Mark took it upon himself to make up for lost time, and he was coding for hours on end, ignoring Eduardo for the entire day, into the night, and into the next day too.

When Eduardo woke up on the couch two mornings later, a blanket he didn't remember covering with slipping off his shoulders, to Mark _still_ on the computer, Eduardo had to say something.

"Mark. Tell me you've slept."

"I've slept."

"You're lying."

"You were certainly asking for a lie."

Eduardo sighed. He picked up the landline phone and started dialing, asking Mark, "has Dustin slept?"

"I suppose he has been unresponsive for a few hours."

Eduardo scratched the back of his neck, walking towards the cold tiles of the kitchen. He pressed the phone between his shoulder and cheek as he opened the fridge.

It looked emptier than usual. Or tidier? Eduardo wasn't sure. But there wasn't enough for a proper breakfast anyway. He let the fridge door close shut on its own before realizing that the entire kitchen looked tidier than usual. 

"Dustin?" Eduardo spoke when the call came through. 

Dustin only groaned in response.

"Yeah. I know. 10AM is an ungodly hour to call you at," Eduardo said.

"Do you, really?"

"I need you to block Mark's proxy access to the servers, so he could stop coding."

"What?"

"Just for a few days. He's sick and won't go to bed."

"I'm not sick," Mark snapped. "I'm peachy."

"Was that him? Just now?" Dustin sounded a little awake. "Holy shit." A pause. "I think I made two hundred bucks today."

"Block the access. You'll make two hundred more."

"You could just pay _me_ two hundred to stop," Mark said. He had left the computer at this point and was standing at the archway into the kitchen. "Dustin doesn't deserve it."

Eduardo hanged up as Dustin barked: "I heard that, Mark!"

Turning to Mark he said, "I'm taking you out for a big fancy brunch, waffles and sausages and maple syrup, and then we're coming back home, and you're sleeping. I'll knock you out if I have to— go put some pants on."

Mark shifted on his feet, looking a little uneasy. "Don't give Dustin the money. I'll stop. And there are leftovers, we don't need to go out."

Eduardo studied Mark closely. Something was off. "You're not having beer for breakfast. Come on." He grabbed a pair of shorts from a chair and threw it at Mark, who caught them clumsily.  
  
  
  
  
  
They went to a brunch buffet place, but Mark didn't eat much. 

Eduardo felt bad. Maybe he was forcing Mark to eat when he wasn't even all that hungry. 

He glanced at Mark while he was paying the bill, trying to find what was making Mark so nervous.  
  
  
  
  
  
Because he was definitely nervous about something. He had his arms crossed, and his fingers were tapping lightly against his arm. He seemed distracted – like he was still coding in his mind as he watched the pedestrians walk past the window.

Eduardo put away his credit card absentmindedly. He walked to Mark, carefully placing his hand on the small of his back as they stepped out.

Mark did look tired though, so there was no way Eduardo was going to take no as answer, but he pushed a little gently this time. "You do need to sleep, Mark."

"I know," Mark said. 

Eduardo could hear the 'but' there. They turned at the corner and entered a park (a shortcut), and at that moment, Eduardo grabbed for Mark's hand. It startled Mark, but he didn't let go, and didn't say anything when Eduardo laced their fingers together.

Eduardo was flushing madly at this point. He hadn't really planned out what he was going to do, but at least for now, he knew they had to talk.

"Mark. You weren't just coding, last night, were you?"

Mark frowned at him, confused.

"You cleaned up the kitchen."

Mark squirmed a little.

"You also did the laundry."

Mark bit his lower lip.

"I appreciate it, but. Is something going on?"

Mark let go of Eduardo's hand and walked a little faster. "The piles of dishes and clothes were an eyesore, that's all."

"This isn't about the heat right?"

Mark froze, and then shook his head. 

"And this morning? About the two-hundred bucks? Mark, wait!" Mark sure walked fast for someone who was a head shorter. He grabbed Mark's arm, but then let go, not entirely certain why. He felt like he was afraid to hold him down. "Mark. We need to talk."

"I need to go back to coding. I'm going to forget—"

" _Mark_ , the website isn't going anywhere. We need to talk."

"You're not going anywhere either. Are you?"

Eduardo stopped, his chest feeling a little tight, at that. "Of course not. No. I'm just."

Mark nodded then walked on.  
  
  
  
  
  
"You said you'd stop," Eduardo said.

"I just need to type this in before I forget. I'll get off right after. Ten minutes, tops," Mark said successively as he headed to the computer, turning it on, fingers tapping impatiently against the keys. 

Eduardo glanced at the clock on the opposite wall. It read a quarter to twelve.  
  
  
  
  
  
It was half past twelve and Mark was still on the computer.

Eduardo didn't say anything for a while, only stood at the doorway. Mark glanced at him, then kept on typing.

"Mark."

"Wardo," Mark said back.

"Mark, you said ten minutes."

"Okay."

"You haven't slept in god knows how many hours, Mark. I'm—"

Mark closed the lid of the laptop, unexpectedly. "I'm going. I'm going to sleep."

Eduardo softened his expression.

Mark slipped past him, went to pour himself a glass of water, before going to their bedroom.  
  
  
  
  
  
It only got harder to get Mark to go to bed, whenever he woke up to code again, especially when Eduardo had gone to sleep himself.

But in general, it was harder to get Mark to talk to him too, which worried Eduardo. Had he said or done something wrong?  
  
  
  
  
  
It was truly hard to tell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, ... any comments would be greatly appreciated and loved and cherished...  
> Sorry for the short-ish update.


	9. fools

September saw school buses, 65 F days, sunsets at seven instead of eight, and a quieter Mark, who was still coding, day in day out. 

Dustin had told Eduardo that they would be launching the upcoming week, and that it was mostly done, but Mark was still on the computer, scowling at the screen, typing irately.

Eduardo watched from the sofa, from above his latest issue of The Economist, feeling a little lonely, but then, also too afraid to interrupt.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Eduardo had fallen asleep at some point, on the couch, with the magazine on his face, and a blanket over his legs when he noticed Mark was no longer on the laptop.

He was also nowhere to be found.

Eduardo tried not to worry. There wasn't any note, but there was one less pair of keys on the entrance counter. Mark wouldn't have taken keys if he was running away, right?

Maybe he just went out to get some Red Bulls and Twizzlers, Eduardo reasoned.

(Even though Eduardo would always stock up on those.)  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
When Mark got back, it was eleven at night. 

Eduardo stood up from the couch. "Mark," he said, weary.

Mark was in clothes that Eduardo didn't recognize. 

He also had a backbag Eduardo didn't recognize.

"Where did you go? I was worried. You could have left a note—"

"I went back home."

Eduardo frowned. "You mean—"

"My parents's," Mark amended, "my parents's place."

Eduardo softened his expression. "Oh. Okay. That's— that's good," he said, sitting down again on the couch. "That's… good, right?"

Mark went back to his parents' place. Why? Did he not like it here? Did— 

"I needed to get my passport," Mark said at the same time Eduardo said, "um, so, how are they?"

Eduardo frowned. "Oh. Um—"

Mark bit his lower lip. "They're okay."

Eduardo nodded. Then, motioning with his chin at Mark's bag, "your things?"

Mark nodded, hugging the bag tighter against his side. Eduardo could see that the zipper was broken. "I hope you don't mind," Mark murmured.

"Why would I mind?"

Mark shrugged. "I should have left a note. I just-- thought I'd be quick."

"Where do you parents live?"

"Dobbs Ferry."

That was at least three hours commute, round trip. 

"I'm glad you're back," Eduardo said, sheepish. "I thought maybe— that you—," Eduardo didn't know how to finish his sentence. He lowered his gaze, shook his head, and then asked, "was this the first time you've gone back home, in a while?"

Mark looked at him for a beat before putting down his bag gingerly on the floor. "Yeah. I wasn't planning on – talking to anyone. But I guess it's hard to get past three sisters."

Eduardo smiled sadly. Mark had never told him he had sisters.

"Are your sisters shapeshifters too?"

"No."

Eduardo was about to ask something, but he caught Mark looking in the direction of the desk. He wanted to code— he had that distracted look again.

"Mark, if you want to leave the house, it's fine, but I'd just. I'd really like a heads-up next time. Even if it's a quick trip. I— I worry a lot."

Mark looked back at Eduardo. His expression looked softer, almost apologetic. "I won't leave you, Wardo, if that's what you're worried about."

Eduardo ran a hand through his hair, and then smiled tightly. "I don't— I just. You haven't… been talking to me much, ever since the—" Eduardo inhaled and exhaled deeply. "Ever since your heat."

Mark winced slightly at the word. He walked to one side of the couch. Eduardo followed.

"We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," Eduardo said. "I just. I thought we were... okay. I thought we'd be—"

"I left Sean because he left me alone on Christmas," Mark said. "The entire break."

Eduardo frowned. He had picked Mark up on a particularly cold February day. It would mean Mark had lived in the streets for at least two months. The thought itself made something hurt in Eduardo's chest.

"I hate Christmases," Mark explained, his tone flat, but also lightly affected, a gleam of emotion. "I'm allergic to pine trees, garlands and the holiday spirit too, whatever the fuck that is. But I had never felt that hollow and cold on a Christmas night."

Eduardo didn't know what to say. It wasn't the conversation he had envisioned – or at least not yet, but it was— it was _something_ , right? It was a lot.

"You would be a big part of my Christmas, you know," Eduardo said, solemnly.

Mark smiled sadly. "I wouldn't even care if you didn't spend your Christmas with me," he paused, looking down again at his hands, "you've already spent every other day with me." He paused again, and then, after a beat, said, "you've spent too much on me, Wardo."

Eduardo sat up straight. "Why do you say that like it's bad?"

Mark licked his lips. "I want to open a bank account. And then once Dustin and I launch the website, I can finally make some money and maybe pay for rent and—"

"You don't need to pay for rent, Mark, I don't need you to, aren't we fine as it is—"

" _Wardo_ , I can't live off you the rest of my life. You don't even want to be my _owner_."

"I'm all for you making a bank account and making money, but you really don't have to pay me anything, and yes, I don't want to be your owner because—"

"—but you make me want to live again, as a human, Wardo—"

"—because I want to be your _boyfriend_ and I—"

"—what?"

"—what?"

They stared at each other for a second. 

Eduardo felt a little hot. He wasn't sure what got him to confess what he had just confessed. But then. Mark just said something. Something really--

"You didn't let me touch you," Mark said. 

The moment broke, for a bit. "What do you mean?" Eduardo asked carefully.

"That night—my heat—you told me to sleep and then you just went to the bathroom."

"You were _beat_ , Mark."

"You didn't kiss me," Mark said, voice quiet.

Eduardo made a quiet frustrated sound. He wanted to kiss Mark. He wanted to kiss Mark back then. And now. He wasn't sure why he was holding back but he was, and it was killing him. It was killing him every time he couldn't just grab Mark and hug him and kiss him until they were both out of breath. 

"Did you want me to?" Eduardo said. Mark exhaled.

"That's an unintelligent question, you and I both know it," Mark replied, stern. Petulant. He extended his legs so that they knocked against Eduardo's a little.

Eduardo frowned and smiled at the same time. "I want to kiss you now. Is that. Would that be okay?"

Mark frowned back. "That's an equally unintelligent question."

Eduardo leaned forward, started to crawl into Mark's space. "Okay. Maybe you should ask the questions."

Mark kept his gaze on Eduardo. He said, evenly, "questions are for fools."

Eduardo cupped Mark's cheeks, pushed their foreheads together. His knees were sinking into the cushion, on both sides of Mark's thighs.

"Then we're both fools," Eduardo whispered.

Mark closed his eyes, a pained expression on his face.

"So can I—"

"Just kiss me," Mark snapped.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Eduardo tilted his head, closed his eyes too, and then did as he was told.

Mark let go of a startled gasp against his lips. His hand missed Eduardo's collar but got ahold of the front pocket of his shirt. And then. And then he was kissing back, just as firmly, just as wholeheartedly. Pressing hard, searching for more, foregoing oxygen. 

Mark's other hand reached up into Eduardo's hair, and _god, it felt so good_ , gentle fingers sliding across his scalp, sending something almost electric through Eduardo's entire body.

And then Mark wrapped his arms around Eduardo's neck and pulled him down, closer. Eduardo moved a hand downwards so that it could rest on Mark's hip, and Mark pushed himself up against it, made sure it reached the skin underneath his shirt.  
  
  
  
He wanted Eduardo so much; it was so clear.

 

How could Eduardo have ever doubted it?  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Kissing Mark was so different from kissing anyone that it felt like it was the first time Eduardo had ever kissed.

One of Mark's hand fell away from Eduardo's neck, sliding down the back cushion of the sofa, following the rip marks he had left there, when he had been Marlin.

Eduardo kissed the corner of Mark's mouth, and then Mark's nose, before pulling back up a little, so he could give him a look, a smile. 

"You said I made you feel like being human again," Eduardo said.

Mark licked his lips, and Eduardo watched, mesmerized. "You said you want to be my boyfriend," he said.

"I mean it," Eduardo responded.

"I mean it too," Mark replied, pulling Eduardo back down for another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading... as always, I'd love to hear your thoughts.


	10. kisses and notes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short chapter... and so will the next one be, but then it'll be complete.

Kissing was something they did a lot from that night onwards. Eduardo thought at first maybe he was the only one who wanted to kiss all the time because he initiated most, but Mark liked to kiss him when he got back home, would even get up from the computer, to kiss him, until they were both breathless. Or even late at night, when they were both in bed, Mark would just rest his lips against Eduardo's skin, like he wanted to fall asleep that way.

They did more than kissing too – and honestly, Eduardo had never known he was this touch-craved. He also never could have guessed how much he liked Mark touching him.

Mark had a thing with tangling their legs together, and resting his head on Eduardo's shoulder, and touching Eduardo's shoulder blades, and kissing the top of his spine.

Mark also liked touching him down below, of course, with that small knowing smile on his lips as he watched Eduardo shiver, and it seriously _did_ things that Eduardo couldn’t even begin to explain.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"You okay, Eduardo?" Lena had asked when Eduardo had zoned out, thinking about Mark, about Mark's curly hair, how good it looked nowadays, how good it smelled when Eduardo had buried his nose in it that morning.

"Yeah, yeah. Why?"

"You've been smiling at a copy machine for the past ten minutes, that's why," Chris groaned from behind.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Things weren't like they used to be before. They were better.

Mark went to work with Eduardo for the days before they were expecting to launch the website, coding alongside Dustin, doing last minute touches, arguing over what kind of blue they should go for. They made the whole office vote on #3b5998 or #1485CA (Mark wanted blue because he was color-blind), and Chris had to do some damage control when screens in the office were disrupted to display the winning color, courtesy of Mark.

And Mark would be on the other side of the glass wall of Eduardo's office, smiling, dimpling, eyes clear and bright.

_Eduardo had made him want to be a human again_.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
And when they arrived home, they would be all over each other, they would trip over their shoes, trip over grocery bags, trip onto the couch, make out, touch each other until there was nothing left but good fuzzy feelings at the back of their minds.  
  
  
  


* * *

 

 

Eduardo's phone calls back home, to his parents, were a little more bearable now too, with Mark always close by, always listening attentively, always coming over to intertwine their fingers together, to soothe Eduardo's nerves, to help him tell his father, gently, "estou cansado de lutar com você, pai."

 

Mark told him a little more about the cheating scandal, when Eduardo had asked about Mark's parents, one night, after a call with his own. He thought maybe Mark wouldn't say much, was even afraid Mark would back away. 

But he didn't. 

"— I said something during a Harkness discussion. It rubbed a few of my classmates up the wrong way. I'm not entirely sure how it followed up logically, but they decided to spread rumors about my SAT test score. College Board picked up on it."

"What was your—"

"1600."

"Oh."

"I told College Board the test was a fucking joke."

"What—"

"I was 17. And stupid."

Eduardo pondered it. "You were stupid to have run away from your parents."

Mark sat up to look at Eduardo in the eye. "What was _your_ SAT score?"

Eduardo scoffed. "That's a trick question."

Mark smiled and then pecked Eduardo on the nose, which sort of shocked Eduardo into not thinking about how Mark had once again, changed the topic. "You passed," Mark murmured.

Eduardo pushed Mark so that he was lying on his back on the couch, then kissed him, touched him, collected his winnings, because he could.

Because he could.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
It wasn't always just happy kisses, but. But they worked it out.

Mark had told Eduardo about how cats out in the streets had shorter lifespans, out of the blue, one day, looking down from the balcony.

Eduardo could tell. By the way Mark hunched his shoulders, the way his eyes were distant, as if looking for ghosts in the streets below him, that he was thinking of a friend.

And Eduardo would press his lips against Mark's temple, worked his way down Mark's face, to his lips. Slow firm kisses, keeping him close.

If Mark's cheek tasted a little saline, Eduardo didn't say anything. If Mark started trembling, he held him tighter, wrapped his arms further.  
  
  
  
Mark had his ways to give his thanks.  
  
  
  
Mark unfroze his old bank account at a nearby BBVA, took out his savings, and started to think more seriously about his future. He would start asking Eduardo questions, mostly out of the blue, like "how do I do my taxes" or "can I pay for the electricity so that they send those letters that prove that I live here" or "can I really live here?"

To the last question Eduardo would just kiss Mark, smiling winningly, saying, _questions are for fools_.

 

Eduardo would find fresh new 100 dollar bills in his pockets sometimes, and he knew what Mark was trying to do, and he'd grab Mark by the arm and push him against the wall and kiss him, sliding his hands down and back, into Mark's back pockets, feeling for Mark's ass at the same time.

Mark would get all grumpy because he'd find that his 100 dollar bills were all coming back to him in his pockets, but Eduardo liked his frown too, and he'd kiss it, and he'd get away with it, knowing Mark loved it too, loved it when Eduardo wasn't hesitant, wasn't afraid to take what he wanted, wasn't afraid to show it too.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
He found a crumbled note in Mark's jacket the other day, before putting it into the wash. It was a yellow post-it, and in Mark's handwriting, it read, "every 4 months, (917) 539-3209, condoms, Randi's wedding 4/18, google—" followed by a scribbly word Eduardo couldn't make out.

When he asked Mark about it, Mark had said they were notes for himself, that the number was Randi's number, for when Mark finally got himself a phone. 

The "every 4 months" and "condoms" were not elaborated on, but explained with Mark's flush and sullen evasions, so instead Eduardo asked if he was invited to Randi's wedding next year, and Mark said, of course he was.

Of course, he was.

And they’d kiss, and it was like electricity coursing through his veins. It was like he was young again, and going to stay young forever, just from kisses with Mark.

They bumped noses, exchanged smiles, and fell asleep like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm sorry if this chapter ended up being a little... boring. Would love to know your thoughts though. Anyways, last chapter is scheduled for August 21! See you all.


	11. revisiting places

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter but... this is it, guys.

Mark and Dustin launched Facebook about a week and a half later than they had planned.  
  
  
Not that it would have made much of a difference. People signed up at the speed of light. The website became big behind their backs, surprising them when they hit ten thousand users within the first week. 

They celebrated it, numbers flipping like a scoreboard on a big blue screen. People were handing out drinks and snacks, smiles and laughter, and Eduardo had kissed Mark in the middle of the office. At first, he was afraid Mark hadn't liked that, but then Mark kissed back, wrapping his arms around his neck, closing his eyes. 

Everyone whooped and cheered loudly, and everything was good, everything was where they should be, how they should be.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
(They continued making out when things died down, when people were mostly on the way home as night fell over, as lights were switched off in parts of the office. 

They fucked in the restrooms, hands all over each other, covering each inch, eyes closed, committing to memory the shapes of each other's body, how they fit and slotted together.

Eduardo could remember vividly, the way Mark's nails dug into his shoulder blades, the way his eyes fluttered shut when Eduardo entered him, cheeks red, teeth biting into his lower lip before letting go and moaning breathlessly, " _Wardo._ "

He could remember the way Mark came, head thrown back, white ropes across their skins, Eduardo's name rolling off his lips over and over, soft whimpers when Eduardo placed kisses against them, to _taste_ it, sheer _happiness_ against Mark's lips).  
  
  
  


* * *

 

 

"So you've. You said it never happened before," Eduardo said. "Not even with Sean?"

"It never happened before, period. How could it have happened with Sean if it never happened before?"

"I was just making sure," Eduardo huffed. "You make it sound so unromantic. But it is, you do realize?" he added, rather happily. He felt bubbly and light with every step he took. 

They were walking down Jones street, side by side, the back of their hands brushing lightly. Someone was playing Bob Dylan somewhere above them.

"Sap," Mark had replied. 

The wind picked up, and Mark walked closer to Eduardo. Somehow that made Eduardo want to kiss him. Just for that. He grabbed his hand, laced their fingers, and then turned to face Mark.

Mark looked up a little startled, but Eduardo leaned down and pressed his lips against Mark's, and Mark melted into it almost instantly.

"We'll never make it there if we keep kissing at every block," Mark said, sternly, when they finally broke apart. 

Eduardo only laughed and kissed him again.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Mark stopped in front of an old café that was right under a fire escape.

"Is this the place?" Eduardo asked.

Mark looked up at the sign, at the red walls, and then the alleyway next to it, where a cat's tail had just disappeared into its shadows.

"Yeah," Mark said.

They stepped inside. It was dimly lit, but overall cozy. The windows were narrow, and one of them had a neon sign that read, "nourish love, and love will nourish you back". 

The owner welcomed them as he wiped a plate dry. Mark smiled ruefully at him.

 

When they finished, Mark left a really big tip in the jar, several bills rolled into a pack. The bundle almost didn't fit through the opening. Eduardo laughed when the owner looked at them wide-eyed, open-mouthed, at a loss of words.

"Thanks for. Thanks for this," Mark said, when they had reached the end of the block. He looked back, at the café, and then back at Eduardo. 

Eduardo smiled, shrugging. There wasn't anything to thank _him_ for. "We can come back, often. If you'd like."  
  
  
  


* * *

 

 

"Where?"

"There," Eduardo pointed at the pier. Mark scowled a little but didn't protest. They positioned themselves, Mark to his right, fitting into Eduardo's embrace while Eduardo held out his phone camera, from above. "Don't you dare move."

"I won't, I won't," Mark said, grumpily. Eduardo kissed him on the temple and then giggled against his skin because Mark was feigning irritation, and it was kind of really uber cute. "Just take the photo alread—"

Eduardo did, he'd taken it while he was kissing Mark. Mark grabbed the phone and started looking through the camera roll.

"I don't want this as my profile picture," Mark deadpanned.

"Why?" Eduardo said, hurt.

"You're all blurry," he said, handing Eduardo back the phone.

"So. Does that mean you're up for more pictures?" Eduardo raised his phone again.

Mark scowled, pulling Eduardo's arm back down. "No. No. You're right. It's my profile page, not yours. It doesn't matter if you're blurry. Can we go now?" He started walking back to the sidewalk without waiting for an answer.

Eduardo didn't follow right away, just watched Mark walk on, until Mark turned back, looking at him questionably. "Wardo, something terrible might be happening to Facebook right now. This is the most vulnerable hour; Dustin is having food coma."

Eduardo took a picture.

Mark was standing in front of the backdrop of New York, in his grey GAP hoodie and jeans, looking out at him with a semi-exasperated expression that reminded Eduardo of old times. 

Eduardo quickly emailed himself the photo, then caught up to Mark, who gave him an impatient look before grabbing his arm and dragging him along.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
That night, with Mark breathing quietly against his chest, Eduardo thought of things past, present, future. Thought about how Mark looked under the sun today at the pier. Thought about how good he felt right now, next to him, how he made Eduardo feel at ease, at home. 

Thought about that first time he had found Mark, near that same pier. Between buildings, behind trash cans, worse for wear, fur dirty and wet, paws muddy, eyes a dull teal. 

Thought of that time he had hugged Mark to sleep, after the bath at the vet's, because Mark had been terrified, had been confused and lost and trembling.

Thought of that night Eduardo thought Mark was some drunk and naked boy who had broken into his flat for a bottle of beer. 

Laughed a little at the thought.

Imagined that first time he kissed Mark. It felt like so long ago – even though it really wasn't.

Thought about the note he found in Mark's jacket.

 

Thought about the word that he hadn't been able to read.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
But now he was able to. He had taken it out again, that afternoon, to reread, to smile at it.

It was as clear as daylight. It couldn't have ever been clearer.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
 _Soulmates_ , it had read, like a whisper as loud as the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Thank you for humoring me with my... cat mark headcanons. 
> 
> I might write a spin-off or an epilogue one day, but for now, I have other (so many...) ideas I also want to dip my toes into. Leave a comment if you liked this? They seriously mean everything! 
> 
> Keep tsn alive 2k19! Thanks again!!!!


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